the thin chef

I have high hopes for myself. I hope one day I’ll be the kind of gal who makes bread from scratch, cans and pickles the leftovers from my organic garden, and feeds my family things I made myself.

I figured bread would be the best thing to start with, because…have you heard? There are bundles of recipes that don’t require kneading or, really, much effort at all. It’s a dump-and-stir kind of thing, only way better than what those dump-and-stir recipes normally yield.

For a few years, I’d been seeing things here and there about Jim Lahey’s No Knead Bread. When I saw this post on the gorgeous blog Honey and Jam, it finally inspired me to give it a go. Not a mistake. This was the easiest recipe with the most satisfying outcome.

A few notes: For me, perhaps because it was a rather humid, rainy day, it took around 7 cups flour to get the dough right. But start with the 6 1/2 and go from there. Also, it yielded a nice, big loaf that I shared with our new neighbors (that started out as a grapefruit-size ball of dough), and a smaller loaf (that started out as a softball-size dough ball) I kept for us. Next time I’ll try to split it more evenly.

Even my dad, a devoted bread kneader, a traditionalist at heart, really liked this bread. I’m going to try variations throughout the next few weeks, and I’ll post the results as they come.

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For our Christmas party in December, I made bite-size meatballs inspired by the ones I’d had a few weeks earlier at my parents’ annual backyard party. I should back up—this party my parents throw is no typical backyard BBQ. Anyone who knows my family knows we simply cannot throw a party without this-is-why-we-came-to-the-party food.

A fabulous gastropub here in Winter Park called Ravenous Pig catered the party, and it was outrageously delicious. I managed to take a few pictures between the bites of food. For starters, there were miniature duck ruebens, Greek lamb meatballs, corn-and-crab fritters, mini biscuit BLTs, chicken liver mousse (I die. It was so good.), as well as artisanal cheeses and house-made salumi. For the main plates, we had braised swordfish (yes, braised, and it was awesome) and venison saddle. Dessert…oh, my. Root beer floats with malt ice cream, lovely little puffs of fried dough shaped like curlicue pigtails and propped in a puddle of rich dark chocolate ganache, and pumpkin crème brûlée with pepitas brittle.

Pictured here: Lots of amazing house-made salumi and artisanal prosciutto; Cowgirl Creamery Red Hawk cheese, aged gouda, Miniature duck reubens; root beer floats; and the pigtails.

So, yes, back to the post at hand. The meatballs. I failed to get a picture of them, probably because I was too busy, you know, eating them. But they were perfect little bites perched atop dollops of cool tzatziki.  When it came time for me to make party food our Christmas get-together, these were at the top of my list. (For the record, they were a big hit…but that’s not what this post is about.)

This post is, actually, about dinner. The other night, I was thinking about those party meatballs, and how I could make dinner around them. I thought it might be fun to do a Greek-inspired twist on that ever-loving Italian classic spaghetti and meatballs, using orzo and the aforementioned Greek meatballs. I used ground chicken, but I think I’ll try lamb next time. The result was a quick weeknight meal with lots of interesting flavors and textures. And it all started with those little party hors d’oeuvres.

Greek Pasta and Meatballs
Serves 4

2 teaspoons olive oil, divided
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
2 large cloves garlic, minced, divided
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
3/4 teaspoon salt, plus additional for sauce
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper, plus additional for sauce
1/4 teaspoon hot red pepper flakes
2 1/2 tablespoons chopped fresh dill, divided OR 2 teaspoons dried dill, divided
2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint, divided
3 tablespoons dry breadcrumbs
3/4 pound ground meat (i.e. beef, lamb, turkey, or chicken)
1 egg white
2/3 cup uncooked orzo
2 cups canned crushed tomatoes or great-quality jarred marinara sauce
Crumbled feta cheese, to taste

Preheat oven to 400º. Line a large, rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. Set aside.

Combine oil and onion in a small skillet over medium heat. Cook until mostly translucent, about 3 minutes. Add 1 clove minced garlic, cumin, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes. Stir, and cook until very fragrant, about 2 minutes. Transfer onion mixture to a small bowl, and set aside to cool for 5 minutes.

Combine 1 1/2 tablespoons fresh dill (or 1 teaspoon dried dill), 1 tablespoon mint, breadcrumbs, and cooled onion mixture in a medium bowl. Add ground meat and egg white. Use your hands to mix everything thoroughly, being careful not to squish or compact the meat too much.

Roll meat mixture into 1-inch meatballs (you should end up with about 20 total). As you roll them, place meatballs on the prepared baking sheet. Bake meatballs until tops are golden brown and insides are cooked through, 15 to 20 minutes, depending on the kind of meat you choose.

While meatballs bake, cook orzo according to package directions. Heat the remaining oil in a small saucepan over medium-low heat. Add remaining garlic, and stir until fragrant and just turning golden. Add crushed tomatoes or marinara, and remaining herbs. Stir, and taste. Add salt and pepper to taste. Cook until heated through.

To serve, divide orzo among 4 serving bowls. Spoon 1/2 cup sauce over each serving, and top with 4 or 5 meatballs. Top with crumbled feta, or pass it at the table so everyone can add the amount they prefer.

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Well hello there. I’m so glad you’re reading this, because it means two things: one, I didn’t lose every single reader I ever had during my little blogging hiatus, and two, it means I finished my first blog post in two months. I don’t usually post much (if anything) about my life outside of the kitchen here, but I figure that if you stuck around this long, you deserve an explanation.

Let’s see…it all started with a slight (but short) lull in my desire to cook. OK, pretty normal. We had pasta for a few nights. Well then the holidays hit, with after-work cocktail parties, dinners out, and days off. And I left my Canon in Florida when we were home for Thanksgiving, so the meals I actually did cook while I was cameraless went undocumented. (Bad excuse, you say? Sigh. I know.) Then came the Big Changes.

First, I decided to leave my job at the magazines to pursue a freelance career. That was Big Change number 1. Big Change number 2 came when we decided that since our families live in Florida and—aside from our incredible friends—the main thing keeping us in Birmingham was my job, we were ready to move back to the Sunshine State. Big Change 3 was the decision to buy our first house…which we found, put and offer on, and closed on within a month. We weren’t wasting any time!

So, all the changes afoot, the month of January became a whirlwind that is a cross-state move. That, along with numerous last dinners out and some lovely farewell parties, meant I didn’t cook a real meal in four weeks. Four! A whole month!

But now, we’re here. We’re officially Florida residents again, and we’re getting settled into our new (to us) bungalow. We’re still working on the cardboard-box-as-furniture thing, but one of my favorite parts of the house is the gorgeous kitchen. New appliances, great lighting, and granite countertops…oh, guys, it’s an absolute dream compared with our old kitchen. There are many culinary adventures to be had in there! I promise to show you soon.

If you’re still reading, this is where I will wrap things up, since I’ve been blathering on for paragraphs. I’m so happy you’re still with me…and I promise there are good things to come. For now, I’ll leave you with the first thing I made in the new house: healthy hummus. It’s a Cooking Light recipe, so I’ll link it and give you my modifications.

Classic Hummus
Adapted, ever so slightly, from Cooking Light magazine
Makes 3 1/4 cups

2 (15.5-ounce) cans chickpeas, rinsed and drained
1 to 3 big garlic cloves (depending on how much you like garlic), smashed and peeled
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup tahini (sesame seed paste, find it on the ethnic food aisle of grocery stores along w/ matzah and other kosher foods)
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Place beans and garlic in a food processor; pulse until chopped. Add the water, tahini, lemon juice, 3 tablespoons oil, salt, and pepper; run processor until very smooth, scraping down sides as needed.

Note: I like to stir in about a teaspoon of sambal olek into 1/4 cup of hummus and use cucumbers to scoop. It adds a nice tang and spiciness.

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I am still alive, AND I am still (I think) a blogger. Some major life changes are going on at Chez Thin Chef, so I’ve been on another planet. But I promise to share everything soon, and have some fab new recipes and pictures to share in the coming weeks. If you’ll still be around to read them… (please say you will!)

Until then…

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After a weekend of indulging in one too many cupcakes and other not-so-good-for-us foods, last Monday night called for a clean, healthy dinner. Grabbing some of the CSA squash I had stashed in the freezer in August, and a bunch of beautiful red mustard greens and locally grown tomatoes from last week’s box, I made a brothy, rustic soup to detox our systems.

This soup actually came together a little randomly. I originally planned on a minestrone when I grocery shopped, so I had beef broth and a parmesan rind on hand for that. They went in. So I guess this is a minestrone-like vegetable-barley soup. If you’re making this now and you live anywhere north of, say, Orlando, definitely use canned tomatoes instead of the pale, mealy ones available in the grocery store. Even our CSA box tomatoes are realllly pushing it w/ their ripeness, but cooking them in the broth helped a lot.

I wanted something for body besides the veg, so I added some quick-cooking barley, mainly because we were starving and didn’t want to wait an hour for the soup to cook. In hindsight, I wish we’d waited—the quick-cooking kind of barley isn’t even close, texture-wise, to pearled barley. Other than that, I think this was a pretty tasty soup…not my best work, but good for a simple, healthy meal.

Vegetable-Barley Soup
serves 4 to 6

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large yellow onion, roughly chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 quarts low-sodium beef, chicken, or vegetable stock (the richer the better)
2 tomatoes, diced
1 sprig fresh rosemary
2 sprigs fresh thyme
1 parmesan rind (optional, but highly recommended)
1/3 cup pearled barley
2 big handfuls stemless dark leafy greens (such as mustard greens, Swiss chard, or kale), chopped
3 cups chopped summer squash
Grated parmesan and extra-virgin olive oil, for topping

Heat a large stockpot over medium heat. Add oil and onions, and cook until onions start to soften, about 3 minutes. Add garlic, and stir frequently until everything is soft and gold. Pour in broth, then add tomatoes (with any accumulated juices), herbs, and parmesan rind. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat. Taste broth, and add salt if needed.

Add barley, stir, and cover. Reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer soup for 30 minutes. Add greens and squash, and stir to combine. Cook 20 to 30 minutes more, or until the vegetables are very tender and the barley is cooked. Remove herb stems and parmesan rind. Top each bowl with a generous amount of parmesan cheese, and a drizzle of good olive oil. Serve.

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It’s so chilly in Birmingham right now, especially in the wake of Ida’s daylong downpour yesterday. I woke up thinking of a comfy bowl of hot oats. At this point, there’s probably not much I can tell you about oatmeal that you don’t already know. But I had this idea today, and it turned out to be a yummy one: I cooked my oatmeal in Georgia apple cider. I also added chunks of Alabama apples and a generous dose of cinnamon while the oats cooked, so the whole thing ended up like the interior of a sweet-tart apple crumble. I prefer tangier flavors to sweeter ones, so I didn’t add any brown sugar, but I might next time to round it all out. At the last minute, I spied a bag of shredded coconut and decided to toss some in. It was absolutely perfect.

How do you like your oatmeal? Do you have any favorite cooking liquids besides the standard water and/or milk? Add-ins that make it a go-to breakfast? Do share. I’m rediscovering my love of this rustic morning food.

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After my somewhat anxiety-inducing msakkhan attempt, I felt like taking on a simpler Arabic dish. Fortunately for me, imjadara, one of Jason’s very favorite meals, is pretty fail-safe. A couldn’t-be-simpler combination of brown lentils and white rice is topped with a tangle of super-soft, golden onions that are cooked until melted and sweet and a crunchy little salad of cucumbers and tomatoes. The onions are, in the opinion of chez Thin Chef, what really makes the imjadara (say im-JUH-duh-ruh…roll the r) come together.

Fragrant cumin is the only spice my mother-in-law uses for this. (I think some recipes call for cinnamon, or other sundry warm spices.) This relies on very inexpensive ingredients that can be stocked and kept on hand at all times. A study in simplicity, this is a perfect meal for Arabic cooking 101.

Imjadara (Arabic Lentils + Rice)
serves 2 for dinner with leftovers
My in-laws serve this with plain yogurt for spooning on top. I love the yogurt added in, but it’s also perfectly fine without it.

5 large yellow or white onions, sliced thinly
5 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 cup brown lentils, rinsed and picked over
1 cup white rice
2 1/2 cups water
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 large, ripe tomato
1 cucumber, peeled and seeded
1 small lemon

Combine onions and 3 T oil in a large skillet over medium-low heat. Cook, stirring occasionally and adding splashes of water when the pan looks dry, until onions are very soft and quite brown, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, combine lentils, rice, water, salt, and cumin in a large Dutch oven over high heat. Bring to a boil, then cover and lower heat to medium-low. Keep mixture at a bare simmer, stirring it every so often. Cook for 20 to 25 minutes, or until water is absorbed.

While imjadara cooks, dice tomato and cucumber, and place in a medium bowl. Squeeze lemon over bowl (watch for seeds) and drizzle with 1 T oil. Add salt to taste, and stir to combine.

Fluff imjadara with a fork, drizzle with remaining oil, and taste for seasoning. Serve with a generous topping of caramelized onions, the tomato-cucumber salad, and plain yogurt, if you so desire.

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Last week’s CSA box contained a plump, perfect little pumpkin. The only pumpkins I’ve ever done anything with are the ones you carve a toothy grin and funny eyes into. I’d read stories about the type of pumpkin you actually cook, but I’d never attempted it.

Of course there are about a million things one can do with pumpkin puree (or just roasted pumpkin, for that matter) but the first thing that came to my mind was pumpkin bread…or, better yet, cupcakes that taste like pumpkin bread. Though I’m not usually one for sweets, pumpkin-spice bread is definitely a seasonal favorite…and if there’s ever a reason to eat cream-cheese frosting, well, you can sign me up.

Since we all know I’m not a baker, I went to Smitten Kitchen for a cupcake recipe, and looked to Elise for a cream-cheese frosting. I also called on my friend Amy, baking expert and photo stylist extraordinaire, to keep my scattered brain on track and to help make the pictures extra pretty.

Deb’s cupcake recipe called for cloves, but we subbed allspice. And, thanks to my gorgeous little pumpkin, the puree we used was fresh. I really do think it made a difference, though these will still be awesome using canned. And though the frosting tasted fabulous with just 3 cups of powdered sugar, I threw in probably another 3/4 cup in for extra fluffiness.

Below is how I roasted my pumpkin. If you have a food processor and you want to make something using pumpkin puree, I highly recommend making your own. It’s super easy and very fulfilling. Obviously, the yield depends on the size of the pumpkin you use…mine was probably 5-6 pounds, and it made right around 2 cups of puree.

Homemade Pumpkin Puree

Preheat the oven to 375º. Cut very top off pumpkin, to get rid of the stem, and discard. Use a long, sharp knife (one that’s heavy-duty) to cut the pumpkin in half lengthwise. Use a grapefruit spoon (or a regular one) to scoop out the strings and seeds. Save the seeds for roasting, or just throw it all away.

Place pumpkin cut side down, and cover loosely with foil. Roast until very tender, aynwhere from 50 minutes to 1 1/4 hours. Let cool until you can handle it, about 30 minutes. Scoop flesh from skin into a food processor. Process for 1-2 minutes, until it’s totally smooth.

If the puree seems overly wet (some pumpkins have a lot of moisture), strain through cheesecloth, squeezing out excess moisture. Use as you would canned puree.

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I’m a little late on this, but I figured I’d add my voice to the overwhelming number of food-blog posts written in response to last month’s announcement of Gourmet magazine’s closing. I’m still shocked and disheartened by the news…as schmaltzy as it sounds, it kind of felt like a mentor or a personal leader was leaving me. I remember picking up the magazine when I was in college and completely losing myself in the pages, finally understanding my interest in food and writing could actually lead to a career. Stories on faraway places and beautiful—if not intimidating—recipes never failed to inspire me. Ruth Reichl is someone I have long admired, and I think what she did at Gourmet was fantastic. I can’t wait to see what she does next.

Luisa posted on Twitter that she was going through all of the Gourmet.com web-exclusive recipes and saving those she wanted to try. Rumor has it that when the magazine closes its doors, the web site will be kaput, too. I followed her advice and searched the Gourmet.com archives. I found 40 or so recipes to print and save. (I was like a contestant on Supermarket Sweep, grabbing anything that looked good, lest it be gone tomorrow!)

Among those was Roasted Cauliflower Barley Risotto, a lovely twist on classic risotto. Chewy and perfect, this is the kind of dish that sates you fully on a cold night…but would also taste great in the middle of summer paired with a glass of chardonnay. Even if you don’t want to make it this week, or even this month, do yourself a favor and print this recipe today, because there’s no telling if you’ll be able to get it the next time you think to make it. And you should make it…it’s absolutely fantastic.

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I come by my love of sharing a meal with people very honestly. When I was little, every calendar (or made-up, or self-imposed) holiday was an excuse for a cookout or some other occasion to get together and eat. So, every July 4, memorial day, birthday, school holiday, etc., my immediate and extended family (the ones who live in Orlando) would gather for a meal.

Aunt Glo, my grandmother’s diminutive, curly-haired, sweet-souled sister, was always in attendance, and almost always contributed something delicious. Aunt Glo is one of those cooks whose love is clearly evident in her food. Most of the classic dishes she makes are painstaking and laborious, but with every succulent bite, you are thankful she took the time. My childhood memories are infused with the foods Aunt Glo (who also has an unabashed love of hot wings) lovingly made for us. Luscious, velvety chicken soup with hand-rolled dumplinglike noodles, pickled macaroni salad with precisely diced vegetables and a sugary, vinegary dressing, and those 50s-style Bisquick/sausage/cheddar balls that are so bad they’re good…plus crumbly, nutty pecan balls—my favorite cookies of all time. And I can still taste the fresh peach ice cream Glo’s late husband, Web, made every summer.

She’s someone who is comfortable in the kitchen, having spent a large chunk of her life cooking in a kitchen so tiny it is smaller than most closets. She knows all the tricks of the trade, and everything she makes comes out just right. One of my favorite tricks of Aunt Glo’s is her ingenious way of steaming the buns for an entire batch of burgers. We would often gather at Aunt Glo and Uncle Web’s thimble-sized house for summer cookouts, drinking Susie’s sweet iced tea, playing horseshoes, and swinging in the shade on the metal glider. When the burgers came off the grill, Aunt Glo immediately put each one between a soft, white bun, and then placed them back inside the thin plastic bread bag, securing it with the twist-tie. In just a few minutes, the buns were steamy hot, ready for grabbing out of the bag and dressing with French’s yellow mustard, fresh Florida tomatoes and iceberg lettuce.

A burger in a condensation-coated plastic bag is a snapshot from my formative years. Every now and again, I need a sentimental reminder of those good old days. Sure, I love a good crusty bun surrounding a gourmet burger, but sometimes…sometimes simple and familiar are exactly what I want.

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